


The Hunt for Juarez

by Parker4131970



Category: Haunted - Fandom, The Crow: Stairway To Heaven
Genre: Abduction, Crossover, F/M, Ghosts, Kidnapping, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:36:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: Frank must find the assassin set on killing an east coast Mob boss. The ghost of four of the assassins’ victims leads Frank to the “Motor City” and to an unlikely source of help: The Crow-Eric Draven.





	1. Chapter 1

_T.V. Shows-The Crow: Stairway to Heaven (One season wonder starring Mark Dacascos)_

_Haunted-(One season wonder starring Matthew Fox)_  


**The Case of Mandy McGraw**

**A Haunted/Crow: Stairway to Heaven Crossover**

  


            Frank Taylor lay sweating in his apartment wishing the air conditioner hadn’t quit. He'd opened every window, turned on every fan but there was no relief. There were only so many layers a man could take off to get cool and Frank was down to his boxers and a wife beater. Los Angles was too hot for even Simon, and Hell licked at his boots. The nasty, blue shadow hadn’t been seen for three days.

         From somewhere down the hall came a cool breeze and the thick scent of vanilla. Gus's barking alerted Frank to the presence of a ghost. When Frank sat up he saw four of them, all young women. Sadness and fear filled the small bedroom. Blood stained the women’s clothes and oozed from gunshot wounds. Poor Gus lay down with his tail down and his eyes rolling from the ghosts to Frank.

            “Find the Crow! Find the Crow!” they chanted as they moved toward the full size bed where the startled private detective lay immobilized. One of them or all of them began to let out a mournful wail; Frank couldn’t be sure. Gus jumped onto the bed with his master as the wail intensified into an ear splitting shriek. The mirror above the dresser split into an outline drawing of a crow. Like a vapor, the young women disappeared, leaving Frank shaken and wondering who the hell the Crow was.

********

            Sarah glided into the loft, headphones firmly in place and her back pack thrown over one shoulder. Strands of corn silk blonde hair obscured the girl’s blue eyes as she effortlessly popped the skateboard up to her waiting hands.

            “Eric, where are you?” She removed one headphone to listen for an answer. From a dark corner she heard boots hit the hard wood floor

            “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to knock first?” Eric commented as he strode easily to where Sarah stood.

            “No,” Her tone of voice and attitude were tough and older than her years. She was a street kid. Eric didn’t take offense.

            “Darryl was looking for you earlier, something about a case.” The street urchin shrugged.

            “What has our friendly, neighborhood detective gotten himself into now?” Eric Draven knelt down beside his young friend as she pulled open a granola bar.

            “No tellin’ with Darryl.” Afternoon sunshine through the round bay window illuminated the dust motes dancing in the beam.

            “Mmm, I love chocolate granola.” Sarah closed her eyes and chewed slowly.

            “When did you see him?” Curious, the solemn figure stood framed in the window.

            “I dunno, after school.” Finished eating, Sarah stuffed the wrapper back in her pack. Most weekdays she stopped by either Eric’s loft or went down to the police station to pester Darryl. Eric made a mental note to catch up to the veteran detective.

********


	2. Chapter 2

_**L.A. …**_

            Half eaten baked beans and fish planks lay forgotten in a Sally’s Diner box. Files and paperwork littered the desk as Frank sat with his feet up on the worn, wooden desk. Lazily he munched on a hush puppy. A thousand clicks of the keyboard and he still hadn’t found even one of the women who’d visited him the night before.

            “Frank! What have I told you about doing that, man?” The longer they worked together the more Detective Marcus Bradshaw felt like Frank’s mother.

            “They were getting stale.” The lanky private eye flashed a charming smile. Marcus raised a dark, disbelieving eyebrow; his caramel-mocha features contrasting with his maroon shirt.

            `”What are you searching for now?” Marcus pushed Frank’s feet off the desk.

            “Just looking into an old, missing person’s case is all.” He tapped the right arrow key. The young, beautiful girl who stared back at him suddenly came to life on the screen. Her blue eyes pleaded for help. The screen blinked, the image of a crow appeared in the center. Its glow lasted long after the background had faded. Frank’s face paled as the computer died. A single sheet of paper slid onto the tray below the printer.

            “What’s wrong, Frank, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Marcus turned around from putting a file in the cabinet.

            “Uh, your computer is acting crazy. You need to get someone from the tech department over here.” Tapping the monitor Frank grabbed the paper and walked out before Marcus could quarrel at him - again.

            Back out in the fresh, ghost-free air, surrounded by the living, Frank read the missing person’s read out.

Name: Mandy McGraw              DOB: 3-25-1988 

Height: 5ft. 7 in.                             Weight: 135 lb. 

Eye color: Blue                        Hair color: Brunette

Distinguishing Marks/ Tattoos: None

Address: 219 Wide Creek Blvd. Los Angeles, Ca *****

Notes:Body found 9-21-1999 in Javier’s Orchard orange grove. Coroner’s report shows one G.S.W. to the liver, sexual assault, body also found with vanilla extract on her collar bones.

            Frank read the single sheet twice trying to figure our where it fit into the picture. He knew there were crime scene photos and he was sure he didn’t want to see them. He sat in the musty, old car for several minutes, Mandy McGraw’s name rolling through his mind. At times like these he sought advice from Dante. Frank cranked the Oldsmobile’s engine and aimed it toward the south side of town.

_**Motor City …**_

            Three prostitutes and two thugs sat waiting to be booked as Darryl grabbed his jacket and walked out; a file tucked in the dark fabric. Cops milled around the station. The veteran detective opened the door to his Dodge Intrepid and started to get in. Out of thin air Eric appeared.

            “Hey, Darryl,” The dark figure greeted the tall, athletic black guy. Startled, Darryl reached for his 9 mm. He swore

            “Draven, man, you gotta stop doing that.” Eric’s grinning face became somber under a gruff look from Darryl.

            “Sarah said you were looking for me.” Eric toyed with the spot light on the car door.

            “Yeah, get in. We’ll talk on the way.” Darryl pulled his dark-slack legged self into the Dodge. Eric hopped in gracefully. Darryl handed the thin, manila folder to his sidekick. The Dodge melted into afternoon traffic easily. Weaving across six lanes they sat quietly as Eric read.

            “Are you sure about this?” A dark cloud had descended over the two.

            “Juarez was one of Top Dollar’s gang in the early days. That’s where he developed a taste for blood; also where his arrest record begins, but nothing in the last fifteen years. Not even a parking ticket.”  Darryl Albrect clenched his jaw in frustration. Just about the time he thought that night was over, something came back to remind him. The detective could only imagine how Eric felt.

            “Since he split from the gang he’s been fingered for the assassinations of three mafia bosses in Canada and in Europe. Every time a mob boss gets killed, young women turn up dead.” Darryl pulled along side the steps to Eric's apartment building.

            “When did he resurface in Detroit?” Eric clenched and unclenched his fists.

            “Three days ago Organized Crime caught wind of a meeting going to happening sometime in the next few weeks.” Both men looked out the window. Lost in thought they sat in silence.

            “Thanks, Darryl.” Eric left the file on the dash board; its’ disturbing contents hidden, but not forgotten.

*******

_**L. A. …**_

            Frank sat in an empty chair, sipping coffee and flipping through Dante’s tattoo portfolio. He was trying to decide between two of them; a flame or a barbwire tribal rose. Then again there was a nice Celtic cross where he could get Kevin, his son’s name, below it.

            “Thanks, Dante, I love it.” A tall blonde in a crop top and tight jean smiled as she looked at the pink butterfly on her shoulder in the mirror above the chair.

            “Come back and I’ll put stars around it for you.” The stocky, young man gladly accepted a hug from the blonde. After she slinked away Dante ushered Frank in.

            “How goes it, brother?” Dante offered him a chair. Designs and photographs of tattoos hung along the walls.

            “Going good; it’s kinda hard to get used to the night visitors, but I deal.” The detective ran his hand across his dark, burred hair.

            “So, I take it you’re on another case?” For a man with bills Frank did a lot of pro bono work.

            “Yea, they came in fours last night.” Over a pot of coffee he described the young women who had paid him a visit.

            “They said, Find the Crow. Find the Crow. I have no idea who or what that is.” Frank shook his head and sighed. People walked down the sidewalk past the tattoo parlor. Some of them glanced at the dancing flames around the name; Dante’s Inferno. Thoughtfully the young artist cleaned his station. Finally he spoke, a troubled expression pulling on his brow.

            “Are you sure they said ‘Crow’?” Dante pulled up a rolling chair to sit on.

            “Yep, the Crow; even shattered my mirror in the shape of one so I’d remember.” A chill ran up Frank’s spine at the thought.

            “I’ve heard of the Crow. In ancient times they believed a crow carried souls to the other side. Sometimes something so tragic happens a soul is allowed to come back; to set right what went wrong.” It took a minute to process the information.

            “But that doesn’t explain why they want me to find this character.” Frank couldn’t figure out where to begin to search for the Crow, but he knew he had to.

            “Did they give you any other clues?” Dante asked, stroking his goatee.

            “Not so far.” They always came back until they had satisfaction. Poor Gus was afraid to sleep at night because of the ghosts, and Simon.

            “Let me know how this turns out. Granny Marta didn’t like to talk about the Crow, she said it was unfair.” Frank had met Dante’s grandmother once. She was a petite lady with a soft voice, but she didn’t take any sass.

            “Give my regards to Granny Marta.” With that Frank stood up to shove off.

            “I will.” Dante slapped his friend on the back before he left. Once outside Frank debated whether or not to pay Marcus another visit so soon.

*****

_**Motor City …**_

      Clouds gathered over Detroit, threatening rain. Heat and lake humidity made Sarah miserable, but Eric’s loft was better than going home. Darla was painting the bedroom and she didn’t want to help. Eric had been sitting on the window sill for nearly an hour. He hadn’t said a word.

            “Are you gonna talk or what?” The girl dragged her feet as she walked over to the steps and sat down.

            “I have a lot on my mind, Sarah.” The usually solitary figure sat like a stone gargoyle on the bay window’s sill.

            “It’s about that meeting with Darryl ain’t it?” Sarah pulled a loose thread on her Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. Since Eric had lost Shelly and begun his unlikely career as a dark hero, Sarah had been his link to the outside world.

            “Yes, it is.” That’s all Eric wanted to say. He continued to stare out the window.

            “What about it is eatin’ you?” She was nothing if not persistent.

            “This one’s real evil, Sarah. Darryl has evidence that links Juarez to Top Dollar’s crime ring.” Eric ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair as if trying to brush away unpleasant thoughts. He unwound his slim, but muscular frame and began to pace the room.

            “Was he there when you and Shelly were, um, you know, killed?” Sarah didn’t like to think of that awful night and the bastards who took Shelly away from them.

            “No, Juarez had already become a mafia hit man by that time. Thing is, he leaves three women dead every time he carries out a hit. These women are suffering, I can feel it.” Eric stood in front of the window, his frame blocking most of the dusty light.

            “You gonna find this guy or what?” Sarah demanded incredulously. Anger had risen in her face. It was a feeling they both understood.

            “I plan on it,” Eric answered calmly.

            “Then why aren’t you gone then? Why aren’t you out looking for this guy?” Sarah shouted.

            “I don’t know. This one is different. The time isn’t right.” Eric threw his arms wide in the open loft. Sarah clouded up.

            “Sarah, I can’t explain it, but the time isn’t right. Juarez is here for a mob meeting. There’s still time.” For a moment Eric and Sarah were locked in a stare down. Sarah backed down first.

            “Fine, just let him get away.” Angry and confused, she stomped off for home. Eric settled back down on the window sill to ponder the situation.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue about police procedure, it's 100 % made-up for this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

_**L.A. …**_

            Sweat rolled off of Frank’s forehead. Heat lightning flashed across the sky periodically. Gus panted on the floor, just as unable to sleep as his master. The oscillating fan was turned on high but it didn’t help. Frank didn’t notice the scent of vanilla at first. He was too busy remembering how he and his ex-wife, Jessica, spent balmy, summer nights before their son Kevin was born. Those were some memorable nights.

            As Frank tossed for the umpteenth time he heard Gus whine and smelled vanilla.

            “Frank, the Crow.” Mandy McGraw’s voice came out of the darkness. A flash of lightning lit up the room and Mandy’s pale face.

            “Who is the Crow, Mandy?” Frank asked, sitting up in bed. Other figures began to close in around him. They took up chanting, “The Crow, The Crow,” very slowly. Scared but unable to turn away, Frank let the ghost reach out to him. Her icy caress was enough to chill him to the bone.

            “All the pain, all for you.” Mandy laid hands on either side of Frank’s face. Images and emotions began to flood his mind. A dark figure with long, raven hair and a long, dark coat walked toward him. His soulful eyes held his gaze, as if looking into Frank’s core. A terrible sadness and need for retribution rolled off of him in waves. Everything he felt, everything he carried with him channeled into Frank.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  “Find the Crow, Frank. Detroit, the Motor City.” With the chant slowly growing fainter the ghosts disappeared. Heart racing, the private eye let them recede into nothingness. Relieved, Frank sat back to catch his racing heart. The effect they had on him had been more intense. The private eye knew he had to get this case solved before it took control of him. It was late but Frank called his source on all things mob, Marco.

***

That Night... 

            “Hey, Marco, how goes it?” Frank asked. He lined up a shot on the pool table. The Black Out was packed, which was good for talking business. Marco always brought quality information. He’d been one of Frank’s best informants.

            “Goes good, my man; got exactly what you’re looking for. Still wanna buy that cabin in Michigan?” The stocky informant looked like a realty agent in his khakis and orange polo.

            “Yeah, tell me about it. Where is it?” Frank asked, glancing up.

            “Detroit.” Marco leaned against the pool table. Frank seemed pleased as he handed Marco the cue.

            “The cabin is near the lake. They say you can catch three pretty, little fish for every big ugly one.”

            “Where’s the big fish hunter?” Frank tried to sound casual as his informant took a shot.

            “He’s on his way from California to Michigan for the musky season; should be there around the 23rd.” Two shots were sunk. Seeing an opportunity to pass the rest of the information Marco bet Frank two dollars on a shot. Between the two ones lay a slip of paper. Fortunately Frank made the shot.

            “Well, Frank, I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. I’ll see you later.” Marco handed back the cue.

**The Next Day …**

             Wide awake, Frank got up, made coffee and wrote down notes on his latest visitation. After breakfast and a shower he drove to Marcus’s precinct. Sometimes Frank felt guilty about using his former partner as a resource and not telling him about the ghosts.

            “Got more jelly doughnuts?” Frank took a sip of his fourth cup of coffee that morning. As usual, he had his feet propped up on the desk waiting for Marcus.

            “Gotta get 'em before the early shift. What’s up, Frank?” Marcus shoved his friend’s booted feet off the desk.

            “I’ll have to remember that.” They exchanged places. Marcus flipped through mail laying on the in-box.

            “How’s the new case going, man?” The detective watched Frank then turned back to his mail.

            “I think it may be related to a case out of Detroit, Michigan. Think you can help me out?” Frank asked, handing over what he had on Mandy McGraw. Looking at it, Marcus’s brow furrowed.

            “Man, this case is grisly.” Marcus closed the file and shuttered. They never got used to the harsh reality of the job. “I don’t know, Frank, Michigan is out of my jurisdiction. Are you going to check this out way back east?” Detective Bradshaw sat down and sipped his coffee.

            “Yea, I’m actually leaving to go to Detroit later today; my source in Organized Crime says that’s where it began.” Frank fibbed. Telling his best friend about seeing ghosts on a daily basis was difficult. He just couldn’t make himself do it.

            “Good luck. Keep me in the loop.” Chit-chat over, Frank made his way to the airport. He wondered if he could out run the ghosts. It was a pleasant thought while it lasted. Frank dozed as he sat folded up in coach. It was cramped but cool.

********

_**Motor City …**_

            Sarah had given Eric the cold shoulder for three days. Darryl hadn’t had any word on Juarez so Eric was left alone to think. Even his familiar crow hadn’t been around for a while. The still quiet was nerve wracking. As Eric hung from the rafters; thinking, brooding, there wasn’t much difference, the Crow’s vision interrupted his train of thought. Suddenly he saw a tall, lanky man strolling through the airport lobby. He carried a single duffel and wore a rumpled trench coat. He looked like he’d stepped straight off of a Humphrey Bogart detective movie, only without the fedora. A white light outlined him as he stepped into the sunlight and hailed a cab. No one around the scruffy stranger had the illuminated outline. Eric could sense the questions in this man’s mind. They were as much a part of him as the pain and loss he still felt. Eric slipped down the fire escape to his motorcycle. He headed to Darryl’s office. The glowing stranger would be there when he got there.

*******

            Detroit was a rugged, dirty city, full of shadowy back alleys and seedy store fronts. Frank watched the fresh scenery go by on his way to the Third Precinct. It was pretty much like any other police precinct; cop cars, and traffic. The taxi let him out and drove off almost before he’d gotten his coat tail out. A dark figure on a motorcycle whizzed by Frank. Something about him was so familiar, but he was gone before Frank got a good look at him. The private eye shook it off.

            Walking in, Frank looked around. A tall blonde receptionist answered the phone, filed and told Frank where to sign-in at the visitor’s log. A gold name tag said; Darla. It was a very old fashioned name, but it suited her.

            “I am looking for someone working the Juarez mafia case.” Frank spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, hoping it would get the right person to respond.

            “Me too.” The dark figure popped up behind Frank, a mischievous expression on his face.

            “Just a moment please.” Darla responded, her eyes surveyed the stranger. He was good looking.

            “Thanks, Darla, I’ll take it from here.” From an office in the back came a deep, authoritative voice. A confident, black detective ushered them to his office.

            “I’m Frank Taylor, Private Investigator.” He pulled out his credentials and showed them.

            “Detective Darryl Albrect, you said something about Juarez.” Albrect shut the door after Frank and before the dark, long haired man.

            “Hey, that’s not nice, Albrect.” The door slammed against his foot.

            “Eric, now is not the time.” Darryl nearly growled.

            “Yes, now IS the time, Darryl. This guy has the key to catching Juarez.” Frank overheard them talking. After a second the stranger walked in behind Albrect.

            “Mr. Taylor, this is Eric Draven, he’s a consultant for the department.” Frank knew better, but he’d been a ‘consultant’ before too. The three took turns shaking hands before sitting down.

            “You said you were investigating Juan Juarez. How did you come across the case?” Darryl Albrect watched Frank carefully as he responded. The former police detective decided to lay most of what he had on the table. He handed Darryl the file folder on Mandy McGraw.

            “I believe she’s one of Juarez’s victims.” Frank leaned back, fingers laced in his lap. Darryl flipped through the file quickly, as if he already knew the contents.

            “What lead you here?” Darryl crossed his arms over his chest. Eric Draven watched the conversation idly.

            “I’m here because Juarez’s arrest record begins in Detroit, that, and there’s a rumor about a mob hit on a Canadian boss. There’s a meeting of American and Canadian mafia in this area soon.” Frank didn’t let Darryl intimidate him. He turned his attention to the figure sitting off to his right.

            :”Mr. Draven, may I ask what interest you have in this case?” The former police detective studied the seemingly unaffected man. Draven’s dark eyes flickered before he answered.

            “Before Juarez was a mob assassin he ran with a local crime syndicate. This gang murdered my fiancée and me.” The statement laid it out flatly. This guy didn’t bluff.

            “You’re sitting here, so they must not have succeeded.” Frank retorted, wondering if he was wasting his time.

            “They succeeded.” Draven clenched his fist on the chair arm. What Mandy showed Frank made sense, the loss and pain.

            “Do you know when Juarez will arrive in Detroit?” Darryl spoke before the tension began to spark.

            “My informant has it that Juarez is going to be here around the 23rd.” The room quieted for a moment.

            “Any idea where he is now?” Albrect leaned forward, eager to follow this new lead.

            “No, I don’t even really know what Juarez looks like yet.” Frank shrugged. Detective Albrect and Draven exchanged a loaded glance before the detective handed Frank a file folder. Skimming it, he saw the mug shot of a young man with intelligent, brown eyes, a dark goatee and a confident, mischievous air to him. There was something cold in the eyes looking back at Frank.

            “This should help.” He muttered. This guy was dangerous.

            “I’ll see if my informant has any more info and let you know.” Frank handed the folder back.

            “We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Taylor.” Detective Albrect exchanged business cards with his visitor. Frank walked out with a sense of dread and curiosity. He waited on the curb to hail a cab, thinking about his next move.

*******


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Light came off the tall, lanky guy as if he were a night light. It was the same kind of ethereal light that had surrounded Shelly the few times he’d seen her on the bridge. Eric had him pretty well figured when he passed him outside the police station. Listening as he laid out his information, Eric heard the subtle shift in the way he spoke. What Eric couldn’t figure out was why he was on Juarez’s trail. Loss and loneliness were evident in Frank’s green eyes.

            “Mr. Taylor” A vaguely familiar voice spoke as a cab passed. Turning, Frank saw Eric Draven standing beside him.

            “Mr. Draven, how can I help you?” Frank asked the leather clad figure standing beside him.

            “Call me Eric, I just have a question.” Frank surveyed the area, then focused his attention on Eric. “I know you’ve touched the other side; that’s how you became involved in this case. What I want to know is do you contact them or do they reach out to you?” Eric’s humorless expression and blunt question caught Frank off guard.

            “I almost died a little over a year ago, since then ghosts wander across my path. They usually have something for me to take care of.” He answered the question, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “It’s not something I like to make public.”

            “You’re looking for something too, aren’t you?” Eric continued. His level, knowing gaze was unsettling.

            “Yes, my son.” Frank figured they’d run a background check on him already. “You’re the Crow. You’re the one that Mandy McGraw told me to find.” Finally, Frank had found what he was looking for. It was a relief.

            “I’ve been called that, yes.” Eric smiled dryly, “I guess the afterlife has a grapevine.”

            “I guess so.” Frank concurred.

            “Do you think you could get in touch with someone on the other side?” Eric asked with a hopeful look in his dark eyes.

            “I don’t know, they usually come to me.” Uninvited guests were common enough without seeking them out.

            “Would you consider trying?” Draven looked hopeful. Frank thought about it for a moment. Visions of being struck by lightning and being knocked on his ass twenty feet back came to mind.

            “Sure.” Landing on his ass wasn’t such a bad thing for Frank. He’d done it before.

********

            Gunmetal gray clouds floated lazily across the summer sky. Inside the lot Eric hung upside down from a support beam, thinking. Sarah rolled in easily flipping his skateboard up and catching it.

            “Are you a crow or a bat?” Spunky Sarah grinned up at him. A red bandanna covered her sloppy pig tails.

            “Nah, this place doesn’t compare to a cave, it’s way too nice.” Eric swung off the beam and landed on his feet, gymnast style, no hands.

            “Heard anymore about Juarez?” Denim bibbed shorts and Chuck Taylor’s clad Sarah flopped down on the hardwood stairs.

            “Yes, a private eye came in to the precinct to talk to Darryl. I sat in on the conversation.” Restless, the former musician plucked at a string on his old Gibson.

            “Was his info any good?” Dust motes rose off the floor as a stray breeze drifted in the round, bay window. Sarah fixed the rolled up sleeve of her red and yellow tie-died t-shirt.

            “He had good information. There’s something different about him. He’s touched the other side, he sees ghosts.” Eric went on to describe the ethereal light surrounding Frank Taylor.

            “Hmm, just when you think you’re one of a kind. Now you’ve got competition.” Sarah’s greenish-blue eyes crinkled in the corners as she teased Eric.

            “I think I can handle it.” It struck the dark champion how it would feel if something bad were to happen to Sarah. She was almost like a daughter to Eric. He saw something of how the families of Juarez’s victims felt. The realization made a chill run up his spine. Paternal notions were new to Eric. A heavy knock on the door dispelled the thoughts clouding his mind.

            “It’s open!” Eric and Sarah both shouted. Darryl popped out from behind the ancient, oak door.

            “Hey” He greeted with a nod. Half way across the floor he fumbled to loosen his cobalt blue tie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt.

            “I don’t see how you stand wearing black in ninety degree weather.” Darryl shook his head. Eric just shrugged.

            “I did some digging on this Frank Taylor.” Darryl pulled up a chair. “It seems he was a good detective on the L.A.P.D. until his son, Kevin Taylor, was kidnapped. The kidnapping broke up his career and marriage to A.D.A Jessica Taylor. That’s when he went into business as a private detective. Most of his cases were missing or abducted children, only natural. One such case nearly got him killed. After that his cases took on a more bizarre nature, kinda like some of the cases you and I have worked lately.” Darryl handed Eric the file folder.

            “But he’s one of the good guys, right?” Sarah asked.

            “His file points to him being one, yeah.” The detective stood up to pace the room. He felt smothered in the old loft. Eric pulled out a picture of Frank Taylor sitting beside a very attractive brunette, a grinning, little boy standing between them. It was a beautiful picture of a happy family. Eric momentarily wondered if he and Shelly would have looked like that someday. Sarah stepped up behind him to look at the file.

            “They look like a nice family.” She voiced everyone’s thoughts.

            “Taylor’s old partner and his D.A. ex-wife keep his back covered. Must be nice, I have to do that by myself.” Darryl shook his head.

            “Any other news on Juarez?” Flipping through a second file folder, Eric saw a picture of the Latino assassin.

            “No, nothing, unfortunately.” All three were silent.

            “We’ve got to find him before he starts his ritualistic killings.” Darryl swore, his muscular hands wiping his face as if to push away the grim thoughts on his mind.

            “Definitely” Sarah chimed in. Darryl, Eric and Sarah talked for a while about the case. Darryl had to see his family. Sarah went home to her mother and Eric went out to scout the city for Juarez. Having a supernatural pair of extra eyes was helpful.

*******

            On his own dime, Frank found a cheap motel just outside downtown Detroit. It was low rent but clean and comfortable. Frank settled down in front of the T.V. with a Chinese take-out box and a beer. He’d called Jess and Marcus. Marco hadn’t given him anymore information and Mandy McGraw hadn’t turned up either, so far. Flipping through the cable channels he began to get sleepy. The Chinese ran out and so did the beer. Frank fell asleep with the T.V. on an old western.

            “Frank, oh, Frank.” Vanilla scent filled the room almost to the point of being sickening. When he woke up and looked around. Frank thought he was in a gynecologist’s office there were so many women around.

            “What do you want?” Startled, he sat up straight, looking around. Young women surrounded the couch where he sat. Fear, confusion, anger and revenge filled the room, overwhelming the paranormal P.I.

            “We want Juarez. He’s in the city. He likes to be where the girls are. Tall, short, thin and fat, he likes blue eyes and glasses.” Mandy pushed up glasses as if she were wearing real ones. In unison the girls all adjusted imaginary glasses. They began to close in around Frank. The cloying smell of vanilla nearly made him gag.

            “Where is Juarez now? Is he doing it again?” Frank looked around him.

            “Lacey things, pretty things.” Mandy circled around him, her incorporeal hands caressing his face. Frank felt his skin become cool. Images of a mall began to flood his mind. A store window with a mannequin in the center wearing a red and black teddy with matching underwear zeroed in. Three women worked in the back restocking the shelves. A tall, brunette with large, wire framed glasses laughed as she hung up a stack of boy shorts on the wall. Frank tried to see the store name. A few letters were all he could see before the image disappeared. Frank was left the oppressive vanilla scent and the sound of the young woman’s laughter. Wide awake, he began researching local malls. He had to find Juarez before another young woman died.

            “May I speak to Detective Albrect, please?” Frank flipped the plain, white card over while he waited.

            “Detective Albrect.” The cop picked up. He sounded like he had just gotten to work and hadn’t had his coffee yet. Frank knew what that was like.

            “Yes, Detective Albrect this is Frank Taylor. My source called, he says Juarez is in Detroit, and he’s stalking the first young woman.” Frank hoped he sounded credible. Marcus, his former partner, took him and his explanations at face value. Detective Albrect was more suspicious, or so Frank thought.

            “Does your informant know who or where?” Darryl asked quickly.

            “Yes, a store called Lace, in the mall on the south side of the city.” Frank wished he had more information.

            “Has Juarez taken her yet, has he committed a crime?” Darryl asked. He heard Frank sight.

            “No.”  The private eye answered.

            “My hands are tied, Mr. Taylor, you know that the police can’t interfere with a private citizen.” Frank picked up the hint. He would have said the same thing had he been in Albrect’s shoes.

            “Thank you, Detective Albrect, this private citizen has some shopping to do this evening.” The private eye started to hang up, until he heard the police detective.

            “Can I suggest a guide, someone who knows all about it?” Darryl pressed on.

            “Sure, I can do with a guide.” Company on the stake out would be welcomed.

            “Meet me at a place called the Black Out, on Henderson Street at ten this morning.” Darryl hung up, grabbed his coat and headed to Draven’s loft.

***

 


	5. Chapter 5

Eric's Loft...

            Strains of a 70’s rock song came down the stairwell as Darryl marched up to the loft. Eric was just getting to the guitar solo. He didn’t hear Detective Albrect knock or walk in the apartment.

            “Hey, Draven, we need to talk.” Darryl waited until Eric had come back to reality to speak. Shadows surrounded most of the apartment’s space.

            “Frank Taylor has another lead on Juarez, but my hands are tied. Think you could do some surveillance with Taylor, catch Juarez in the act?” Time was of the essence.

            “Sure, where and when?” Eric carefully laid the Gibson in its’ case and snapped it shut.

            “We’re going to meet Taylor right now.” Darryl motioned him to follow.

            “Sounds good.” Eric grabbed his coat and followed Darryl out to the car.

*********

            At ten o’clock in the morning the Black Out was nearly deserted. Darryl, Eric and Frank were allowed in by the owner, a friend whom Eric had saved. They took a table in the back.

            “Okay, gentlemen, here’s where we stand on the Juarez case.” Detective Albrect began, “As an officer of the law, my hands are tied. That puts the ball in your court.” He looked from Eric to Frank.

            “Juarez doesn’t even have a parking ticket, so you can’t arrest him without hanging yourself. I get that. All of his troubles are from ten or twelve years ago.” Frank felt frustrated but he knew exactly where Albrect was coming from.

            “Right, which is why you’ll be on surveillance detail, I don’t know where your informant got his info, actually, I prefer not to. Your record and my past experiences tell me to trust you.” Darryl gave Eric meaningful glance on that one.

            “Hopefully we can put an end to Juarez tonight.” Eric spoke up.

_**The Mall ….** _

            Detroit mall stayed wide open until eleven-thirty on Friday and Saturday nights. Local bands played music, people milled around shopping, eating out, waiting for the movies and generally having fun. From the Magic Mart to Peebles, the place was packed. A steady rain obscured the cab driver’s vision as he stopped in front of the mall. Behind him Frank and Eric looked out their respective windows.

            “Here’s your stop, fellas.” The cabby interrupted their thoughts. After Frank paid the fare, he and Eric entered the bright, normal world of the local mall. A jazz band played an ancient ragtime tune as they entered beneath a neon sign. Frank had opted for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a cotton jacket. Eric stuck with his black duster and black jeans.

            “I’ll check out the store first.” Frank directed, speaking low so as not to be overheard. Eric agreed, then gravitated toward the dojo across the midway.

 _Lace_ was an upscale lingerie store, the kind of place Frank used to buy Jess’ anniversary presents. He missed those days. Black lace trimmed boy shorts and a matching push-up bra beneath a red lace teddy barely covered the six four mannequin standing beneath a black and gold sign. Frank didn’t see anyone behind the counter. His heart skipped a beat.

            “Hello, how can I help you?” A young woman spoke behind Frank, startling him. The young clerk stood framed in the dressing room door.

            “Um, I’m looking for a present for my wife. It’s our anniversary.” He pulled out his ex-wife’s picture.

            “That’s sweet; do you have anything particular in mind, her favorite color?” She pushed up her wire rimmed glasses.

            “Do you have anything in purple or blue?” Frank didn’t know what he’d do with a purple negligee but he had to keep this girl occupied. On her corn flower blue, silk blouse Frank noticed her gold name tag-Anna. A beautiful name for a girl that Frank wasn’t about to let get cut down.

            “Do you know her size?” Anna asked, moving out of the dressing room.

            “Size four I believe.” Frank saw Eric shaking his head. All he could do was shrug. Anna pulled a lavender colored nightgown with satin trim from a rack.

            “We just got these in on the truck.” She didn’t know Frank was ignoring her best sales pitch. He scoured the store for anyone lurking around. About the time Frank spotted Juarez in a mirror so did Anna.

            “That pervert gives me the creeps.” The young woman shuttered, her head shaking.

            “You’ve seen him around here before?” Frank continued watching the little assassin in the mirror.

            “Why haven’t you reported it to the cops, or at least the mall security?” Frank spoke intensely, just loud enough to be heard by Anna.

            “He’s not the first creep, probably won’t be the last.” She dismissed it lightly. Outside the shop a large group walked in. Juarez used them as cover and disappeared. Eric was out of sight as well. Frank tried to think quickly how to keep Anna safe with out scaring her. She screamed as the private eye felt the mind numbing blow and stopped seeing anything.

            The lanky P.I. lay sprawled out on the gray carpet like a defeated boxer. Eric knelt down beside him and checked his pulse. Eric hadn’t seen Juarez sneak up behind Frank and hit him. He had seen the tall man jerk, then fall and heard Anna scream. It was barely perceptible above the saxophone solo. No one but Eric noticed.

            “Frank, come on, we have to go.” His ears registered Eric’s voice but his brain was too fuzzy to operate Frank’s limbs or mouth. When he sat up he saw double as he looked around for Anna.

            “She’s gone. Juarez took her before I could get over here.” Eric helped Frank to his feet. Both men felt the urge to curse. Why did the plot always have to twist?

            “Did you see where he took her, which direction?” Frank felt the knot on the back of his head begin to rise.

            “Juarez was gone out the back before I could get here.” Eric sighed. Together they barged through the back stock room and through the loading bay door to the outside. Frank heard a crow caw from somewhere overhead as he stood beneath the security light. The only thing in view was a dumpster and Detroit in the west.

            “He drove a van off in that direction. Eric pointed east, toward the mountains.

            “How can you tell?” Frank asked. When Eric turned around the question was answered. A large crow drifted down to land on his shoulder. Eric’s face was ghost white and painted in a messy caricature of the Joker.

            “The Crow!” Frank stammered. The ghosts had told him about Eric, but seeing it was another thing.

            “Juarez’s victims didn’t warn you about this?” Eric passed his hand before his face, his nails a greasy black. Darkness in his menacing eyes was disconcerting to the usually unflappable private eye. Frank shook his head no.

            “Yeah, the afterlife is a real bitch.” Eric shrugged. A light breeze pulled at his long hair.

            “They’re here. Do you smell that?” Frank asked, expecting to see a horde of young women around him.

            “Yes, I do, vanilla and lots of it.” The breeze grew stronger and the scent intensified.

            “What is it with the scratch and sniff ghosts?” Eric asked.

            “Beats the ones who leave clues in blood on every flat surface.” Frank shuttered to think of how his apartment would look under Luminol and a black light.

            “Hello, Frank.” Mandy McGraw appeared first, “We’re glad you found the Crow.” She motioned to the group of girls around them.

            ‘What do you want me to do, Mandy? Where can I find Anna?” Frank tried to resist the urge to gag at the heavy scent enveloping him.

            “Who are you talking to?” Confused, Eric wondered if this guy was tripping out or hallucinating from a concussion.

            “Mandy McGraw, don’t you see her?” Frank pointed straight at Mandy.

            “No, the only person I see is you. Are you sure you’re alright? Want me to call an ambulance or something?” Eric saw Frank hit his knees, sick to his stomach. He touched Frank’s shoulder and suddenly saw the young women pressing in on Frank. The ring leader, Mandy, waved her fingers at him. Her eyes were as blue as Arctic ice and just as cold. The girls began to wail mournfully.

            “Scarface, Scarface, Scarface. Three of us must die before Scarface meets his maker.” Mandy shouted, bending down to Frank’s level. “Anna suffers as the crow flies west. Follow the Crow.” All around them the women wailed until the noise became a shriek. When the ear splitting noise subsided they were gone. It took both men a minute to recover.

            “Does any of that mean anything to you?” Frank asked. He longed to climb into the cool hotel bed and sleep for a week.

            “Yes, I think I may know where the girl is, and where the mob meeting will be.”

********

 


	6. Chapter 6

Eric's Loft ...

            Eric and Frank took a cab back to Eric’s loft then called Darryl. Ten minutes after telling him how things went down the detective walked up Eric’s steps.

            “Draven, I wish you’d get an apartment closer to the ground.” Darryl wiped his forehead as he walked in.            

            “Not happening, sorry.” Eric shot back. Half asleep, Frank sat in an old kitchen chair in Eric’s loft. Jet lag and night visitors were getting the best of his sleep.

            “He looks like he’s seen better days.” Darryl commented on the lanky P.I. as he faintly snored.

            “Yeah, I guess he has.” Eric responded.

            “So, what have you got for me on Juarez?” Darryl asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

            “I have reason to believe the mob convention will be in the old Astoria Theater on the west side of the city. Juarez has a hideout somewhere nearby.” It was a solid lead and Darryl was glad to have it.

            “How did you know?” Ever curious, the detective had to know.

            “It was something one of the ghosts said. Our boy, Frank, is a ghost conductor.”

            “Feels like Grand Central Station sometimes.” Frank woke up fully, stretched his arms then stood up.

            “Juarez will kill her soon if we don’t find Anna. The meeting has to be in the next few days. Juarez has been stalking his victims. He follows some twisted ritual, killing three innocent victims, then carries out the mafia hits. From what I’ve gathered, Juarez has been a hit man longer than previously thought. There are a lot of victims.” Frank’s eyes were red and blood shot. He looked worn out.

            “How did you know about the Astoria, anyway?” Darryl tapped his chin as he asked Eric curiously.

            “I went to see “Scarface” there a few weeks before it closed. It still has the movie title on the marquis.” Frank and Darryl looked at each other, perplexed. Considering the source, it made sense.

*******

            Anna sat on the cold, cement floor, her mouth gagged, limbs bound and blood making her blue eyes sticky. Cold seeped through the young woman’s jeans, making her hip joints ache as it claimed more and more of her energy. The room lay in darkness except for a grinder’s forty watt bulb in one corner. Tools lined the walls, but Anna couldn’t get to any of them. A padlock held her to a short chain in the floor. She thought and thought of how to get away, but she felt her h ope slipping away. She began to wonder if the boy she sat beside in her psychology class would notice she was missing. Tears began to fall when Anna thought of her mother planning her funeral. There was so much to do, to say before she died. The college student wanted to tell her best guy friend how she felt. She wanted to tell him she loved him, and had loved him for four years. Sobs drowned out the little assassin’s foot steps as he came down the steps of the attached garage.

            “Hello, my lovely girl. How are we doing?” Anna stopped her bitter tears at the sound of the slightly accented voice. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain, her fear. Gently, Juarez unlocked the pad lock tying her feet to the chain in the floor. Anna wanted to kick him in the face, to escape, but she saw the revolver in his waistband, and knew it was pointless.

            “Let’s go out and see the stars, Senorita.” Juarez pulled Anna to her feet and up the three steps to the house’s kitchen. Anna’s mind went blank. She didn’t want to beg or run away, she just wanted it to be over. Juarez half dragged her into the fenced-in back yard. A full moon and stars lit the sky overhead.

          Eric Draven jumped the fence and landed in a dark corner without so much as the swish of a coat tail. He had led Darryl and Frank to the yellow house on the corner of Nelson Street. Juarez’s navy blue, Chevy work van set outside in the cement drive. The plates came back registered to Merle Johnson of Columbus, OH, stolen six weeks before from a Wal-Mart parking lot.

            “A stolen vehicle out front of a house for sale seems like probable cause to you?” Darryl asked Frank.

            “Sure does.” They both slid clips in to 9mm hand guns. Frank had put on and extra bullet proof vest, just in case. Eric was on point as they made their way inside.

            “Lock and load.” Darryl led the charge inside the house.

            “Juarez, leave her alone, your killing days are over.” Eric stepped into the moon lit yard, into full view.

            “I don’t think so, Hombre.” Juarez pulled the snub nosed .38 Browning up to shoot Eric. He dodged the shot easily. Juarez gasped at the sight of Eric’s face. The silver light made his features seem more other worldly. He looked like something from the Day of the Dead in Mexico. Even though Juarez was Cuban he could disappear in Mexico and often did when the heat was on.

            “Holy Mother” The little assassin muttered, backing up. Anna fainted and slumped to the ground.

            “Holy Mother, remember us in this our time of need.” Eric took hold of the revolver in Juarez’s right hand, hand and all. He jerked his arm then shoved, pain rippling from his finger tips backward to his spine. With his left hand, Juarez pulled a knife. One quick slap and it stuck into the thick grass. Darryl rushed through the sliding glass door of the kitchen, Frank on his heels. Draven had the shorter man by the wrists, his own arms crossed. In one swift movement Erick whirled Juarez to where they both faced the kitchen. Juarez dropped the .38 at Draven’s feet. Frank moved forward to Eric’s side. The scent of vanilla rolled off him in waves.

            “They’re here, Draven.” Frank laid his hand on Eric’s and let the assassin’s victims channel through them both. Juarez screamed at the sight, sound, smell and emotional overload his innocent victims brought to bear against him. When Frank, Eric and the girls were done with him, Juarez was a snotty mess.

            “Dispatch, be advised, this is Detective Albrect. We need a bus at 511 Nelson Street and some uniforms too.” Darryl holstered his 9mm and knelt down to untie Anna. Frank pulled his spare cuffs out of his hip pocket and clamped them on Juarez. The little assassin lay limp, dead weight.

            “They sure did a number on him.” Darryl spoke what they all thought.

         Anna was taken to the hospital for exposure and minor lacerations. Juarez spent a month in the psych ward at County General before he could be formally arrested and charged. He subsequently confessed to killing nearly forty people over a twenty year period. Eric disappeared before back up arrived. The mob convention went along as scheduled, but with information from Juarez an undercover operation was initiated. Frank gave his statement then faded into the background until time to testify in court.

****

 


	7. Chapter 7

Eric's Loft ...

            Frank drifted back to Draven’s loft after Juarez’s arrest. There was still unfinished business.

            “Draven, this is Frank Taylor, can I come in?” The loft door was unlocked but Frank didn’t want to barge in.

            “It’s open.” A young girl’s voice answered with Eric’s

            “Frank, good to see you. You look rested.” Eric stepped off the bay window’s ledge.

            “Thanks” The P.I. carried a faded duffel bag on his shoulder.

            “What brings you here, Mr. Taylor?” The blonde, little girl asked point blank.

            “And you are?” Frank sized the scrappy kid up, his blue eyes unwavering.

            “This is Sarah, a good friend. Sarah, this is Frank Taylor, the private investigator from Los Angeles, who helped us catch Juarez.” Draven introduced them.

            “I’m kinda like Eric’s side kick.” She piped up. Eric rolled his eyes and hid a snicker.

            “I get the feeling I’m supposed to talk to one more ghost before I leave.” Frank set the duffel bag by the door and crossed the hardwood floor. His green T-shirt and jeans looked out of place in the dark loft.

            “Go home, Sarah, I’m sure Darla is looking for you.” Eric pointed to the door.

            “No, she knows I’m here.” Sarah flashed a confident grin.

            “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be here. Trying to communicate with the other side is dangerous.” Frank frowned. He traded looks with Eric.

            “I want to see Shelly too, Eric. She was my friend.” Sarah protested, crossing her arms and furrowing her blonde brows.

            “Alright, but you have to stay away from the window.” Eric compromised.

Gingerly, Frank stepped to the sixth floor window and peered out. “I hope this works.” The paranormal P.I. didn’t like heights.

            “Are you sure about this, Frank, dealing with the other side has a price sometimes.” Eric warned.

            “I have a feeling this one is a freebie, I may get to see my son and you’ll get to see your fianceé, just relax and concentrate on her.” Frank laid his hand on Eric’s shoulder then grasped the window frame. Sarah watched as a wind gust blew in around them. Blinding, white light flooded the loft. The peaceful plateau where Shelly waited for Eric became crystal clear. Eric and Frank both saw her come running toward them.

            “Eric, Mr. Taylor, you opened the portal.” Shelly reached out to touch Eric but couldn’t. Tears filled her eyes as she hit her knees.

            “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Shelly, I promise.” Eric shouted over the wind. Sarah edged forward, seeing the light but not what Eric and Frank were looking at.

            “Oh, honey, I know. The young women you helped last night want to thank you. They can rest in peace now.” She still reached toward Eric as if to touch him at least in her mind.

            “Have you seen my son, Kevin?” Frank asked, hoping his little boy was alright.

            “No, Frank, I haven’t, but I’ll keep an eye for him.” Shelly had to shout to be heard as well.

            “Tell Shelly I miss her and I’m doing alright.” Sarah clamored for Eric’s attention, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes and making her unstable on her feet.

            “She can hear you, Sarah, now step back.” Eric had to use both hands to keep her from falling out the window. When he pulled away the portal closed and Shelly was gone. The wind stopped as quickly as it had begun. It was over.

            “Oh, Eric, I’m sorry, you were protecting me and lost Shelly.” Sarah’s tears welled up, her lower lip quivering until she clenched her jaw.

            “It’s okay, Shelly wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, she understands, and so do I.” Frank watched Eric stroke her hair as Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist. However mixed up, they were a family. Quietly, the Los Angeles P.I. found his duffel bag and headed for the door.

            “Frank, thank you, for helping us see her again. I’m sorry we couldn’t help you with Kevin.” Sarah shouted out. Eric could see the tiredness creep back into Frank’s eyes.

            “At least I know someone else is looking for him too.” It was hard to smile, but Frank did.

            “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” Darryl Albrect knows how to get in touch with me. Frank just nodded and walked out.

            Frank left the building with a heavy heart. He had hoped to find our where his son was and if Kevin was okay. Just as he hit the last step, Frank heard a small child’s giggle and turned to see a little boy’s face disappear. Kevin was alright and Frank knew it.

 

**The End**

 


End file.
